The Gift of Giving
by fringeperson
Summary: The shops put up the decorations earlier every year, and in doing so make us think about what we would like to get as well as where to get what we want to give. Christmas giftfic for misu, complete oneshot don't own. Fluffy Valenwind with implied smut.


Vincent stared solemnly at the tree. It wasn't just any tree. Oh no. This tree was an almost perfect cone-shape. This tree had baubles and bobbles and swathes of tinsel and strings of popcorn and lights and candy-canes hanging all over it. This tree had a star at the top and gift-wrapped boxes underneath it. This tree was a Christmas tree. Furthermore, it was a Christmas tree in a window display.

It wasn't nearly December yet, so what was it doing there? Hell, it wasn't even _November_ yet! The general community still had Halloween to get through before the Christmas decorations should be going up.

"They get earlier every year," a voice from beside Vincent complained, and the smells of engine grease, cigarette smoke, and strong tea floated over the gunman's enhanced senses.

"Hello Cid," Vincent greeted, not looking at the pilot.

"Hello yerself," Cid answered with a slight, coarse, chuckle. "Any ideas what you want for Christmas?"

"Cid, it's still October," Vincent said flatly.

Beside him, Cid shrugged. "Yeah, so?" he countered. "The money-makers obviously want us to start thinkin' about it already. So, have ya given it any thought?"

"Not really," Vincent admitted, uncaring. "Yourself?"

"Oh I can think of a few things te ask Santa for," Cid said with a more light-hearted chuckle. "A new tea blend, engine parts, good bottle of whiskey," the pilot listed off absently. "Company," he added. Almost as though it were an after-thought, but the way he said it suggested that company was the one thing he wanted the most from that little list.

"I suppose I wouldn't mind a new gun," Vincent said, making no comment on Cid's little list. They both knew it had been heard.

"Heh, and a full clip to keep it warm with, right?" Cid suggested. "The old crowd isn't getting together this time around, to my knowledge anyway. One of 'em usually books me for flyin' us all to the one spot by end of October, an' that's not far off."

Vincent nodded silently. The old crowd. Barret and Tifa, Yuffie and Reeve, Red, Cloud, Marlene, Denzel, Tseng and Elena, Reno and Rude, Rufus... It had been more than a little surprising the first time Rufus and the Turks had been invited to a seasonal celebration, but they'd been regular attendees ever since. That was five years ago.

"What are you doing in Rocket Town anyway Vincent?" Cid asked.

"Passing through," Vincent answered firmly, hunching his shoulders and turning to keep _on_ passing through.

Cid nodded and didn't turn as the tall gunner walked away from him. No goodbyes. They were just a pain in the arse anyway.

~oOo~

November and then December rolled around, and the Christmas season proper along with the latter. Of course, since the Christmas decorations had been up since _October_, and the Christmas music playing along with, it was really just as well that Christmas was the next day and the shops would be taking all that stuff down again. Those merry little jingles were getting annoying. They were nice songs and all, but once the appreciation for a good song wore off, only the crass commercialism remained and it grated on the nerves.

Vincent was back in Rocket Town. He'd only just arrived that day. Oddly for him, he'd arrived on a chocobo with a bag tied to its back. Normally one to only carry the weight of his soul, sins, and guns, and almost always on his own two feet (exception being when flying on or in one of Cid's contraptions), the chocobo and bag were _very_ divergent from his usual methods.

Vincent dismounted just a short way into the town and walked down the only street of Rocket Town, leading the chocobo by the reigns as he headed for the house with its own bunker and airstrip out the back.

The gunner ignored the front door. Only salesmen used the front door to a person's home, unless it was genuinely the easiest door to get to – or the only option. No, Vincent and his chocobo headed around the side and out to the giant shed where Cid could be heard working on one of his babies.

A quick knot secured the bird to the fence far enough away from anything mechanical it could get its beak into, and Vincent did a quick dance of knuckles against the side of the building before letting himself in. The door was open, and Cid was clearly underneath the Tiny Bronco.

"Pass me the three-quarters will ya?" he called, gesturing out beyond himself to the tool box that was near his right foot, rather than the one that was near his left hip.

A quick scan of the box's contents later, Vincent handed over the correct wrench and continued to fetch tools for the man until he was done.

"Vincent!" Cid exclaimed happily when he finally rolled out from beneath his plane. "What are you doin' here?"

"Merry Christmas Cid," Vincent said, the smallest upward quirk at one corner of his mouth.

Cid grinned through the grease in answer. "Merry Christmas yerself," he returned happily. "You stayin'?"

"That was the intention," Vincent allowed, nodding. "Unless you are against the idea."

"Nah, I'll be grateful. Go on in an' make yerself comfy, I gotta clean up."

The back door into Cid's home was utilized, and Vincent took note of the sparse Christmas decorations. Okay, so Cid's only concession to the Christmas season and all the hubbub that went with it was one cone-shaped tree with a few baubles and a star on top. It was a foot high, star not included, and sitting on a coffee table off to the side of the TV.

Vincent dumped the bag that he'd brought with him by that table, then let himself relax into his favourite of Cid's cushioned seating options – the three-person-wide blue couch. He arranged an extra cushion behind his head and kicked his feet up on the opposite arm rest. The gunner still stuck out the end a good way, but it was still quite comfortable. Then again, maybe the comfort came at an emotional level as much as a physical one. He tended to shift a little bit after a while resting on the couch this way.

Didn't matter. He had few comforts of either kind in this world any more. He'd gratefully savour whatever few he could find.

~oOo~

Between the two of them and the stove, a dinner of ham and eggs with noodles and even some vegetables was able to be enjoyed without too many burnt bits. The washing up after wasn't much of a hassle either. Christmas breakfast was cereal.

"I'm mildly surprised that you haven't asked me about the sack yet Cid," Vincent said once they'd settled in to watch the Christmas specials on the television.

"You're a private sort of person, didn't want te pry," Cid answered. "But since you bring it up..."

Vincent chuckled. "It's your Christmas present," he said. "Go ahead."

Cid grinned and grabbed for the bag – revealing a parcel wrapped in red paper that had been tucked behind it since Vincent had dumped the bag there the day before. "An' that's yours," Cid said, pointing at the large-ish box.

Vincent blinked in surprise as he reached for the box and set it across his lap. His own mute contemplation of the gift was halted by the sound of Cid's laughter.

"Tea, engine parts, and whiskey," the blonde said, his blue eyes bright and happy when he turned to Vincent. "And company," he added. "Thanks Vincent."

"It is my pleasure Cid. Now, what is this?" he asked.

"Open it and see!" Cid insisted with a laugh. "That's the way it works, isn't it?"

Vincent nodded and tore through the paper with his golden claw. A new gun, exquisitely crafted, with slots for materia as well as a full clip of ammunition. It was beautiful, and when he hefted it the grip fit just right and the weight was exactly right and it was _perfect_. The rounds it took were large, but they were a standard sort of large, so Vincent wouldn't have to make his own ammunition for this gun like he had to for one or two of his other guns.

"Thank you Cid," Vincent said softly.

"You're welcome," Cid answered. "Now, help me drink this bottle of whiskey you have so graciously gifted me this fine Christmas day!"

"Cid, it's not even noon," Vincent pointed out.

Cid stopped. He'd been about to launch himself off the couch to fetch glasses, but Vincent had a point. "Right, to the shops to buy _more_ grog, and _then_ we'll pop the cork on this one!"

Vincent just shook his head fondly and followed the pilot out into Rocket Town. The shops were officially closed, but no one was going to complain if Cid let himself in, took a few bottles, and left an appropriately fat wad of gil beside the cash register in exchange. Rocket Town was a quiet place after all. Locks weren't really bothered with in a town where everybody knew everybody and their grandmothers.

Before they returned to Cid's house, Vincent directed them both to the grocery store – a few instant meals to serve them come lunch and dinner time, since there was little chance of Cid being properly sober come meal time, and Vincent was rather hoping he wouldn't be either. Neither of them were any good as cooks anyway. Still, operating a microwave wasn't that hard.

~oOo~

It was probably the day after Christmas by now, Vincent decided as he cracked one eye open, just slightly, and noticed that the digital clock a foot from his face read zero-nine-hundred. It could, on the other hand, be _two_ days after Christmas. Either way, he was _definitely_ comfortable right now, and happily snuggled into the small but strong body that was holding him.

Vincent knew, academically, that he probably should have warned Highwind that, before he'd been modified so much it was difficult to get him drunk, that when he _did_ get drunk he also got _friendly_. Then again, from what he recalled of their Christmas day, Cid was quite the friendly drunk as well. After all, they'd gotten friendly enough with each other, once they'd worked their way through five bottles of various alcoholic beverages, to be snuggled up in bed together with suspicious bodily fluids staining the sheets.

Vincent smiled in satisfaction.

Company for Christmas.

Well, he'd be a bad gift-giver if he took the present away just because Christmas was over, now wouldn't he? That just meant he'd _have_ to stay, unless Cid wanted him to leave that was, and from the way Cid was currently snuggling him right back... Yeah, Vincent wasn't going _anywhere_ in any great hurry.

~The End~


End file.
